Surviving in Harmony

Chapter Twenty-Two | Hester House, August 2003

Chapter Twenty-Two

Hester House, August 2003

 

                       Hester House was too quiet for Amara.

She had always wanted to live in the country, teach in a small town or open a chic little gallery – but not when she was twenty-four. She was twenty-four. And where was she? Sitting at home with a degree and a baby, waiting for her husband to come home.

“Pathetic.” She mumbled, shoving her arms up to her elbows in dish bubbles. Andrew always offered to do them magically when he got home, but she felt the need to keep a bit of Muggle in her life. Her daughter could already make seeds blossom just by holding them in her little chubby hands.

Her daughter. Ella, Ella, Ella – the perfect baby. Never cried, always giggled and smiled. So smart, she was talking way before Max was – weeks early. A constant jumble of words were constantly falling out of her sweet little rosebud lips, a little dent at the top; as if a faerie had pressed her finger there just after she was born.

“Papa!” Ella cried from the other room, and Amara moaned. Ella was night owl, just like her Papa.

Drying her hands, Amara left the dishes and went into the grand living room, the fine carpet completely covered in toys. Ella had dropped off to sleep while playing and Amara hadn’t wanted to risk moving her.

“Papa.” Whimpered Ella, waving her arms around.

Amara dropped to the floor, placing Ella in her lap. “Sweetie, it’s sleep time.”

“Papa.” Insisted Ella.

“Papa’s working, Ella.”

“Papa!”

Amara scooped Ella up in her arms and climbed took the kitchen stairs to the second floor, entering the second master bedroom and placing Ella in her crib. “Nighty night, Ella-Belle.”

“Papa!” Ella started to cry, her big dark eyes welling up with tears. “Papa, Papa, Papa.”

Amara wanted to scream, but she didn’t want to scare Ella. So she left. She left her baby girl crying alone in her crib, went downstairs and grabbed every breakable thing in reach. She was being smothered, choked – Amara couldn’t breathe.

“Honey,” came Andrew’s call, causing Amara to freeze. “I’m home.”

The broken plates and glasses around Amara suddenly seemed pointless. She stood, listening to Ella crying upstairs and waited for her husband to come and catch her – proving that she was as bad a mother as she new she was.

“Ella’s crying, did you hear her?” asked Andrew, looking through his bag, then crying out as he stepped in a shard of plate. Looking around, he saw his wife frozen, holding a plate on one hand, tears streaming down her face. “Mara?”